Awkward Questions with the Borgia
by BirdieInATree
Summary: An entirely silly story about two poor, unlucky soldiers in the Borgia. Archers in Rome seem to lack balance as of late, and that's only the beginning... Accepting requests!
1. Archers are Falling on my Head

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, this wouldn't be fanfiction.

* * *

There is one thing that every person, citizen or soldier, knows to fear above all else: an angry Borgia Captain.

This was one thing that the soldiers had been trying to avoid running into, and most little groups handled it well. Occasionally a fight would break out or a couple mercenaries, thieves, or vigilantes would get in the way of whatever they were doing, and they could easily present whatever casualties that had occurred to their Captain without a problem.

That was the normal plan, but Rome has never been a normal place.

With the recent rebellions, many members of the Borgia had resigned themselves to the fact that fighting would grow more frequent. Archers became more vigilant and soldiers carried a larger variety of weapons. More recruits were needed to take the place of the fallen as a new threat began to emerge, though it lacked a face to many of the low-ranking men.

This is where our (rather sad, if you are Borgia) story begins.

Two of the guards stationed in Rome had noticed a frequent problem around them: archers posted on the rooftops were dying. They came upon several bodies in one short week; each of the bodies had been stripped of ammunition and valuables. The wounds that killed them were located in the back of the neck or skull. Occasionally there would be a knife, crossbow bolt, or even bullet embedded in their corpses.

These guards weren't nameless, of course. Everyone has a name. They were Arturo Rossi and Casca Marino. They weren't high-ranking, even though they were stationed close to the center of Rome.

After asking their Captain for more archers, and reporting the situation, archers were told to watch for anyone walking on a rooftop and that it is a crime in the area punishable by immediate death on site.

This took care of the worst of the problem for a while. A couple of archers even reported scaring off a man in white clothing climbing across the rooftops. One even received a promotion because he knocked a man off a building when he was headed toward areas with more Borgia influence.

Things didn't stay like that, though.

Casca was the first to notice the body. An archer's corpse lay sprawled out awkwardly on the side of the road. People walking by avoided the body with horrified faces and muttered prayers.

"Just look at that, another one." Casca said, studying the body.

Arturo was a little more horrified, "Turn him over, so we can see his head."

Casca did, but the only wound seemed to be the one the poor archer received when he hit the ground. "I'd only be surprised if it was the same modus operandi. This can't be the same thing."

"Then what could have happened?" The other asked, leaning on his spear.

Casca looked up, "Well, it did rain yesterday… Maybe he just slipped and fell."

He prodded the arm of the fallen soldier, "A sad way to go…"

So they reported it to the Captain, and he assigned someone else to the post, warning some archers to be careful in rainy weather.

"Casca, is that…?"

"…he's probably just…drunk."

Neither of them really wanted to, but their feet lead them over to the corpse anyway.

"Casca, he's not drunk." Arturo said.

Casca sighed, "Nope, he broke his neck."

Arturo winced, "On impact?"

"So it seems."

That was just the start. Every day, even several times a day, to the point that they needed to make a request to their Captain to help solve the problem. It was very messy business, as you can imagine. Not just when dealing with the bodies, but deciding who would present the request.

Casca presented the first option, Italian heritage and beautiful surroundings leading him to so eloquently say, "You can."

"No! I wouldn't if you begged!"

"Then I won't beg! Now go!"

"Why don't you?"

"Probably the same reason as you!"

"…what if we went together?"

"Then both of us would be reprimanded, and probably reassigned to the middle of nowhere."

Arturo thought about this for a moment, and then finalized, "Then neither of us would have to handle this anymore.

Now this idea appealed to both of them. They couldn't really be punished for something so stupid, but if the Captain was in a bad mood it really could lead to him transferring them to someone else in his frustration.

The process of getting to a Captain of the Borgia, an esteemed member of the political community, was filled with reports, requests, and failed attempts at begging and/or intimidation.

It was all very frustrating, really.

Eventually they got the Captain to look up from his paperwork (which couldn't be THAT interesting) and listen to them.

During the complicated process of reaching their Captain directly, the general fear of him had waned a bit, but came back when they looked into his eyes, which were quite terrifying, actually.

"What is it?"

Casca cleared his throat, "Well… you see, sir. We have a bit of a problem with the archers…"

Arturo nodded and filled in, "Yes, sir. We need more of them."

"Yes, preferably with good balance." They both smiled, hoping to look friendly rather than just strange. Sadly, some endeavors just don't turn out well.

The Captain was not amused at all by this, "Good balance? Just what could you possibly mean by that?"

"Umm…The deaths-"

"You never mentioned any deaths."

"Oh, uh, sorry sir: the archers keep dying." Arturo corrected himself, "It's not like before. These look to be, well, accidental."

"How can the deaths be accidental?" The Captain questioned, narrowing his eyes.

Casca answered this time, "They keep… falling."

"So you're telling me that my skilled, trained archers are _falling off roves?_"

The men answered in unison this time, "Yes, sir."

The Captain looked strangely frustrated, or possibly outraged. Yes, I think you could call that outrage. "And just what do you want me to do about it?"

Casca looked to Arturo, who looked like he was about to wet his pants. "We…" He tore his eyes away from his petrified friend to respond to the Captain, "We weren't sure."

The Captain, being a somewhat half-way reasonable man every once and a while, leaned back in his seat. "I'll see what I can do." He sighed, "Until something can be worked out, just…look up regularly."

The men were dismissed and walked toward the usual path they took when patrolling. It took a moment before either of them could think of something worth saying in their situation.

Casca finally started a conversation, or attempted to. "Well, that wasn't so bad…"

Arturo, finding his voice, answered, "You're lying."

"It's not like it hurt or anything."

"True, true." They sat on a bench to rest for a minute.

Casca fiddled with his dagger, "It really could be worse."

"Right again, my friend. The Captain will sort everything out. All we have to do is look up often." Arturo responded, smiling and pointing up.

A body fell to the ground with a crunch next to them.

The smile on his face fell, "Umm…Casca…"

He sighed and stood up, "_You_ get to carry his feet this time."


	2. Screams with Wolves

Alright, the reception to this story has been surprisingly good, so I'm expanding it. It will be more like a series of oneshots, not exactly like an outlined story. I won't be updating regularly, nor do I have it planned out. Just check back every once and a while. I'll post things when I get ideas, which I have one more chapter in the process now.

"Alright, that's it, this is getting insane!" Casca cried out, dodging a body that had actually bounced off an overhang.

Arturo stepped over to inspect the body, "Yeah, this has gotten a little out of hand." He tapped his chin, "What if someone is pushing them, and really is aiming for us?"

Casca gave him a look, "That really is insane. I think we just need better archers."

"What if we transferred? Not far, I mean, just outside the city. This could be good opportunity to get to the Coliseum."The quieter officer mentioned. There were archers posted there, but most of the time patrols were on the ground, and they wouldn't have to worry so much. From what they had heard, there hadn't been the same problems there, for obvious reasons. Well, the reasons were more obvious if you knew the whole story, but at least they thought the archers were posted farther from ledges.

"That would require talking to…him." He said, and began stripping the corpse of weapons so it could be transported. They could've sworn they heard someone curse nearby, but dismissed it.

"Who knows, it could be worth it…" Arturo kneeled down and inspected the archers broken neck.

"With our luck, we'd end up posted on a building too."

"But we're not archers…"

Casca stood back up, slinging the archers crossbow over his back. "Come on."

They started to walk away, and Arturo didn't have to ask where they were going.

Despite the extreme fear of their superiors, they (meaning Casca) had made the decision to go and ask for a transfer. First though, they picked up selected parts of previous reports as evidence so they wouldn't seem picky.

"Casca, shouldn't we get the papers from the time that crossbow fell and dislocated my shoulder?"

"Nah, I think this report will work better. You know the one where the guy fell and broke that merchant's stand? That cost the captain a lot of money, and we just happened to be the ones to see it."

The captain, thankfully, was extremely tired that day. He started to go through procedure just as he would any other time, but he was just going through the motions.

"So, you want a transfer?" The man said, leaning his head on his hand.

"Yes, that's right." Casca responded, feeling very good about this meeting.

"Would you care to explain why?" Translation: "Are you seriously wasting my time?"

Without another word, Arturo and Casca dropped the record books on his desk. The captain, who is a very smart man, took one look at the stacks with wide eyes.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Can we go to the Coliseum?" The captain got a strange smile on his face at their request, but they waved it off.

"That sounds reasonable. We were just looking for some new blood to send that way." He said, shifting a few papers around. "Pack your things; you'll move tomorrow."

Well, that worked.

Things went well at the new barracks, and for several days they went about their patrols without a problem. Then one day they were required to stay late into the night for a party on one of the upper levels.

Ignoring the sounds of drinking and music above them, they walked around one of the inner walls, keeping an eye out for anyone wandering alone, or anyone who wasn't wandering and probably wasn't alone.

"I really like this new routine." Casca said, idly stopping to peek around the wall.

Arturo nodded, "Me too." He peered around, squinting in the dark, and noticed a strange contraption on the ground. "What is that?"

Casca joined him, "I've never seen it before. Of course, we don't normally follow this route…"

The other soldier added, "I wonder what it is…"

Then, faintly in the background, they heard the howling of wolves. It was distinct enough to keep an eye out, if one was far from other people and/or in the middle of the wilderness. They paid it no mind.

Then it came from behind them. They whirled around, seeing several strange creatures standing there, growling. Arturo held his spear out, and Casca drew a short sword in haste. The creatures looked similar to wolves, and Casca, always the poet, dredged up a word from some part of his brain to describe them.

"Werewolves!" He cried, and Arturo gave him an odd look, cocking his head to one side in confusion.

The "werewolves" continued to advance, drawing daggers that looked crude, yet deadly. They growled, backing the two up against the wall. Casca, seeing how they stalked their prey like a wolf as well, drew his own dagger from his belt and threw it into the neck of one of the attackers.

Please keep in mind that while the Borgia are quite good with weapons, they have never been accused of intelligence.

Casca's act provoked the other wolf-people into attacking. Arturo stabbed blindly, unable to hit any vitals. His friend's sword also found skin, but not necessarily inner organs.

Then they left. Apparently being bloody and injured was not an appealing state, so after not even a minute of fighting, the three (though they were sure there were closer to six) wolf-men disappeared, only a dull clanging noise signifying their escape.

After a moment of panting, the two armored men took off toward their horses, heading straight for the barracks and a doctor. Arturo suffered a cut on the collarbone, but otherwise neither man was seriously injured.

Casca began writing his report while his friend was being bandaged, but was unable, with all his poetic nature, to do so effectively.

_We were inspecting a metal contraption built into one of the walls of the Coliseum, when we were attacked by men wearing wolf pelts…_

_There was a metal thing…_

_So it turns out werewolves really exist…_

_Captain, my partner, Arturo Rossi, and I, Casca Marino, are requesting to be transferred…_


	3. A Short Adventure with Arturo

I'm really enjoying this story. Arturo is one of my personal favorite characters, so I had this short piece in mind for a while.

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.

Arturo and Casca had gotten used to life in the small settlement. There wasn't much to look at, but they patrolled idly most of the day, following the same paths several times over. Things were all around quite comfortable, even though Arturo was still recovering from his previous injury. Though it might have been because he had developed a habit of rubbing it when he heard wolves howling, a surprisingly poetic gesture from someone so far from that description.

In a cliché twist, things didn't stay normal for long.

Casca had left for the city the day before, delivering some papers to one of the captains within the main areas. He planned to return the evening after leaving, spending some time in the city and visiting his sister. This left Arturo to his normal schedule, just without the conversation his friend normally provided.

That morning a higher ranking officer handed him a bunch of posters depicting criminals, and told him to place them around the settlement, and on some ruins nearby. Arturo complied, working fairly quickly as he put up the posters. He thought he might have recognized some of the faces, but couldn't remember exactly who they were or where he'd seen them.

He turned behind a building and put up one last poster, keeping a few with him in case he saw any other places to put them during his patrol. He walked back along his usual route, coming behind the building again an hour or so later.

The poster was gone. Arturo scratched his head and sighed, putting up a replacement. He made sure the nail was in a little better that time. Giving it one last good tap, he nodded while examining his handiwork before walking back around for another couple of hours.

It had disappeared again. Definitely torn from the wall this time. Arturo looked at the wall for a moment, puzzled, and put up another poster, using extra nails to keep it there. _Probably just some kids playing a prank…_

Then it happened again. He started to put up another poster, muttering a curse or two.

Members of the Borgia have never been accused of having good observational skills. If they had, Arturo would have seen the figure perched on top of the building, and might've been able to dodge faster and avoid the solid hit to his shoulder, which also smashed his healing injury into the ground along with most of his face.

The assailant grabbed his posters and got off our poor, unlucky "protagonist". (According to most authors, this would be the correct term. Others aren't so sure.)

Protagonists, antagonists, and redshirts aside, Arturo was shocked and slightly terrified. He heard the person drawing a blade and rolled quickly, trying to get back on his feet. White robes caught his eye as the sword was brought down, and Arturo lifted his spear to deflect it. He jumped to his feet and backed away defending against a barrage of attacks. They weren't necessarily well-aimed, and he'd fought better in training sessions, and that's probably what saved him.

He fled, going toward a larger group of guards. It didn't help that he heard his opponent muttered, "He _always_ gives me the easy jobs."

Also didn't make things much better when he realized it was a woman.

So he was left stumbling over to a group of his fellow guardsmen, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He pointed in the direction that he'd come from, but wasn't exactly able to get out any information at that moment.

"What is it Rossi?" One of them asked, though Arturo couldn't place his name.

"A woman..." More panting, "Jumped off the roof…"

Another one looked a bit concerned, "Is she alright?"

"Tried to kill me…"

The last one wasn't so concerned, "What did you do?"

Arturo gave him an exasperated look, "I ran."

"I see that! I mean what did you do to make her…?" He stopped when Arturo held up a hand.

Finally getting some breath back, he supplied, "I was putting up posters and she jumped on top of me. Took my posters and drew a weapon."

"You were overtaken by a girl?"

"She surprised me…"

"And why are you telling us this?" The same not-so-concerned one asked.

"I thought you might want to know there's a killer wearing white robes running around."

The other guards believed him, to a point. Arturo wrote up a report on the situation, which the Captain barely skimmed, earning himself the rest of the day off. He could have sworn his superior had written down "Medical Procedure" and something about head problems, but tried not to think about it too much.

Sure enough, Casca returned that evening to find his friend idly relaxing near the nearest doctor. He stopped and gave him an "are you kidding me?" look, "So who did you bribe?"

Arturo thought for a moment, and then responded with a sigh. "Just promise me you won't put up any wanted posters for a while."

Casca smiled, and knew better than to ask.


	4. Hay is for Assassins

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.

* * *

Arturo and Casca were living very close to some ruins of an amphitheater, watching the days pass by paying little mind to the events in the city. Finally, they were content.

Obviously, this means it's time for some trouble to stir.

It was their first day off since their most recent transfer, and they were casually letting their horses graze from a pile of hay. After a few minutes they tied them up a few feet away, and stopped to chat idly.

Boring, huh? Well then, let's change our point of view to someone else, someone who happens to be an Assassin standing on a ledge above the two Borgia. Passera, though she did not possess the name of a killer, was perched looking out at the scenery before her. Her master, normally an entirely agreeable man, had the nerve to say she was bad at performing the Leap of Faith.

Apparently that is incentive enough to jump off a building.

So, taking a deep breath and locking her eyes on a circling eagle for a split second, she elegantly jumped off the historic ruins toward the stack of hay below.

Her master was right; she was terrible at the Leap of Faith that was a signature to all Assassins.

Although she did manage to take out two Borgia guards as she landed at the edge of the stack. While she would love to credit pulling off her emergency landing to being adept at free running, in reality it was probably the fact that the two guards, whom she didn't know were guards, were in casual clothing (hence her ignorance) and lacked heavy armor and weapons, thus they acted as a convenient cushion. That, dear readers, is the use of variables.

They tumbled into the hay with a cut-off scream and two startled yelps, followed by several painful groans.

Now we have returned to the lives of our two favorite members of the Borgia. One of which was currently being used as a cushion by a flustered Assassin, just before aforementioned Assassin noticed the extreme pain in her leg.

Pain (as I've mentioned before) rocketed up her leg, and she twisted her body, trying to do _something_ to make it stop. She quickly realized not moving was a better idea and crumpled up, whimpering. This did not bode well for either her or her current cushion.

Arturo was young for a guard, and had not yet known many women. Thus, when one literally landed on top of him, his normally, eh, well, we'll call them "sharp" skills didn't kick in until after she started thrashing around. He found himself in close proximity to a girl in a lot of pain, and had no idea what he was supposed to do other than hold her down, which meant hold her closer to him.

Casca found all of this rather amusing, as you can imagine, despite the pain in his shoulder. After a moment, Arturo pushed the girl off him and stood up knee deep in hay.

Passera writhed on the ground for a moment before her mind finally cleared and she was able to move easier, looking up at her victims (wait, wasn't she the victim?) and tried to look, well, sorry.

"Casca, what do we do?" Arturo asked.

"I guess we take her to a doctor… There's one down the road a little." Casca replied. As you can imagine, our two guards were simply standing there, watching the poor girl while they tried to think of a way to help her.

"She must have been on a building though, and that can be punishable by law…"

"I think that this time it was punishable by the ground." At that, Casca, as gently as possible, lifted Passera and walked over to the horses, before saying to his friend, "Climb on and I'll hand her up."

The guard set her side-saddle in front of him, briefly considering how it could hurt her leg more to ride on a horse. It seems thoughts don't stay in the minds of the low-ranked Borgia for very long.

It also seems that they have no idea what to do if someone gets hurt, which could account for the large amounts of casualties caused by blood loss. (It should be noted that, despite rumors, they did not die of paper cuts. As long as a doctor was present.)

They found a doctor fairly quickly, who, as seen from the view of the Borgia, got her drunk and set her leg. In reality, he gave her wine to dull her senses, since he had recently run out of painkillers due to having many more patients as of late. Once she was thoroughly sedated (drunk), he was able to work without a problem.

"That should do it. Keep her off that leg for a few weeks, and if she's in a lot of pain you can stop by one of my associates in the city." He said, and dropped the girl back into Arturo's arms, and I'd like to say that was that.

"Alright, so when she wakes up we'll take her back to her house." Casca said as they walked back into their room in the barracks.

Arturo set her down on his bed, "I'm surprised she didn't break her neck on that fall."

Casca sat on his bunk on the opposite side of the room. "I'm surprised she didn't break _our_ necks."

Arturo chuckled, "That's true, I guess."

Not long after this, Passera began to wake up. Her head hurt and she felt nauseous, but the pain in her leg had faded to a dull throb. She groaned, barely remembering her failed leap and the visit to the doctor.

Arturo and Casca both jumped at the sudden noise. They hadn't forgotten their guest; they just weren't paying all that much attention to her.

So, after several hours and some explaining combined with a few introductions followed by food, they were all on decently good terms. Passera, though terrified of encountering the Borgia, let alone being in a guard's home, was grateful for their help.

Chatting over food is probably the easiest way to make friends no matter who you are. Unless you hate food, in which case you should probably sort out some of your problems and focus on not starving before you can make friends.

Now, you see, there was a problem with trying to get Passera home. Did I forget a transition there? Sorry, you seemed bored. Back to the problem: she lived very close to the Assassin's headquarters. This was normal for recruits who weren't on patrol, so they could get information on their assignments quickly and there weren't any prying eyes too close to the base of their operations.

If you didn't get it already, if they brought her home there was a good chance they would notice all the people in white robes or get killed for any number of reasons.

"So, where do you live?" The slightly louder Casca asked.

Passera, with all the wit of a new recruit answered, "Uhhh… You see, I don't exactly live anywhere…"

"Oh, really?" Casca asked, and both captains had a questioning but concerned look on their faces.

"Yes…?" She answered, prepared for them to not believe her.

Arturo and Casca looked at one another and the former said, "Do you think we could?"

"I suppose. It wouldn't be proper though."

"It's not like we're in here all day."

Passera was thoroughly confused as they talked, until Casca said, "One of us would have to sleep in the floor."

Her eyes widened, "Th-that's okay! I have family in the north…"

"It'll just be for a little while." Arturo assured her. "The people across the street are moving out next week and their house is really cheap."

Casca cut in, "_Nice _cheap, not cheap cheap."

"Oh right, of course, well, you can just stay here until then."

Passera sighed and tried to smiled, "If you insist, I'll stay until then, but not a moment longer." She tried to act rational, but knew that if she just left and they came home to see her gone, they might look for her. She was stuck.

"Alright." They both smiled. Their intentions, for once, were totally innocent; they really were just trying to help.

"Wait a second, Casca…" Arturo had a strange, worried look on his face.

"What is it?"

"We have to ask the captain." They both paused, wide-eyed. Finally, Casca sighed in resignation.

"Let's get this over with…"

* * *

"Let me get this straight, you want to keep an outsider in your home? Not only is this person not part of the guard, but a _woman_ as well?" The captain gave them a skeptical look.

Casca was the one to respond, "She's injured and can't walk, and we didn't want to send her away…"

"Does she have family?"

Arturo spoke up this time, "Not within the city, sir."

The captain sighed and sat back in his desk. "I can't imagine what could happen if someone else got wind of this."

"Sir, it's only for a week." Casca started, but then got an idea. "You don't want people to think that the Borgia is letting cripples live on the street, do you?"

The captain gave him an "I don't give a damn" look, "I stopped caring about that long ago." He leaned forward and put his fist against his cheek. "She better be in a house in a week."

"Thank you, sir!" Arturo said, and they got up to leave.

"She better not be a courtesan!" He called after them, and ignored the look the next person gave him when they walked in.

Two Borgia guards now have an Assassin recruit for a roommate. I bet you didn't believe your wonderful narrator when I said things wouldn't stay normal for long.


	5. Overheating in Roma

I have an idea for at least one more chapter, maybe two if I can write it the way I want. Seriously guys, anonymous or not, I'd love ideas for things to put our dear Borgia guards through. Also, until Christmas I won't have Revelations nor am I stopping this because Revelations came out.

On requests: I won't write yaoi, and I don't guarantee that OC appearances will go the way you want. I will begin this _after_ the next chapter. If I choose to do your request, I'll message you (if you're not anonymous). If I don't, I'm sorry but sometimes an idea just doesn't click with me right away.

Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.

* * *

Casca just about had it with all this excitement in Rome. Seriously, he was fed up.

Especially when he was stuck lugging around some guy who decided to overheat and pass out on a bench.

"Look, how did you even get out here?"

"I was… running… New clothes, you see…" the man explained. He was fairly old, but very much in shape. He'd refused to take off the armor-like clothing; instead just using Casca's conveniently placed shoulder. "Just going… past this corner."

"Wait, why were you running? Why are you using me as a crutch? Why are you going to a brothel!"

He chuckled, "Well… I'm not going to the brothel. Or is that the only thing you see on this street?"

"No… I just want to know!" the guard exclaimed, exasperated. He'd been putting up wanted posters—for some reason Arturo refused to come along—when the man had appeared out of nowhere passed out. That sort of thing can just ruin everyone's day, really.

"Well, let's just say you wouldn't have been my first choice for help."

"That doesn't answer anything." he sighed.

"Here's fine…" the man said, dropping onto a bench immediately after entering the square. Casca gratefully let go, feeling a bit warm himself.

"Finally, what made you think it would be a good idea to go out wearing… What is that? Dog fur?"

The man chuckled, "I certainly hope that it's wolf fur, otherwise I don't think it was worth all that work…"

Casca, though confused, continued, "Alright then, I'll probably see you around." He was normally confused about something, whether he'd admit it or not.

He muttered something in response.

"What?"

"Oh sorry, I was just going to ask you to keep an eye out for a girl for me. She's been missing for a couple of days."

"Who is she? Can you describe her at all?" He asked the routine, necessary questions.

"Well, she's fairly small; she'd remind you of a bird if you saw her. A member of my family, you could say."

Casca, though confused, continued, "Well… I'll keep an eye out for her. Don't overdo it again, alright?"

"Of course!" the strange man flashed him a toothy smile behind his hood. A scar was visible despite his growing beard, on the right side of his lip.

The guard couldn't help but smile back as he turned to leave. They didn't get many opportunities to smile, considering being stern and generally hateful was apparently a rule now.

Then, just as he turned back onto the street where he'd left the posters, he thought of something…

"Passera!" he exclaimed under his breath. She was of slight build, and could definitely have been missing since she'd been hurt. Arturo was probably at home fixing her bandages as he thought about it (which also meant they'd have to take her to the doctor to get them fixed _again_ because Arturo… well all the guards really, were bad with that sort of thing).

He sprinted back to where he'd left the man, but when he got there, he'd disappeared.

Casca was quite fed up with all of this, really.

"If you're going to give me a case, at least _try_ to stay in touch!" he said, looking at some of the hairs scattered on the bench.

Somewhere, he heard laughter.

* * *

He made his way to talk to his captain, somewhat unsure of why he was going in the first place.

The captain wasn't busy, and waved him in with a slight, though justified, wince.

"What is it now? Have you found that woman a place to stay?" he said, pushing his paper aside.

"We've found her a place. She plans to move in…once we get her some furniture." At the captain's frown he added, "Oh, just a bed and table, you know."

"And you've come to tell me this because…?"

"No! I mean… I just was asking… I think we might need more patrols around the brothel."

"Are you just trying to sneak a peek at—"

"No! There are just… some really strange people around there."

The captain sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately; sighing, that is. "I'll see what I can do." He seemed to be doing a lot of that as well. "There's that man in white to worry about anyway."

Casca thought for a moment, "I haven't seen him."

So he left to tell Passera about the odd, possible member of her family.

This, dear readers, is what we call Dramatic Irony... and breaking the fourth wall.


End file.
